


Ink

by bella8876



Series: 30 days of Sterek drabbles [7]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Sheriff Stilinski Knows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:29:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bella8876/pseuds/bella8876
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It would be easy, to confront Stiles.  He’d just have to say, “Derek Hale? Really?”  and Stiles would stutter and pretend to not know what Mitch was talking about.  Maybe they’d fight about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink

**Author's Note:**

> Day 7 of my 30 days of Sterek challenge.
> 
> Prompt: "You have ink on your face"
> 
> In my head the Sheriff's name is Mitch, because of a very long story about Karaoke and hot dads. Just so you know.

“I saved you a plate, it’s in the microwave,” Stiles said from the table, not looking up from the book he was highlighting as Mitch walked into the house. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled, hanging his jacket up by the door. He set his badge, wallet and keys on the table then walked upstairs to change and lock his gun in the safe. He heard the microwave turn on as he hit the landing and contemplated taking a shower, but he was really hungry. 

“So, did it work?” Stiles called up the stairs, the forced casualness in his voice not fooling Mitch for a second. 

“It did,” Mitch called back down as he hung his uniform up and grabbed a pair of sweat pants and an old BHPD t-shirt. 

“Yeah?” Stiles asked. “Who was it?” 

“Sergeant Walker,” Mitch told him and Stiles snorted. 

“I knew it,” Stiles said. “I told you there was something wrong with guy.” 

“You only thought that because he passed on the bear claws you brought in last week.” Mitch said.

“Because what self respecting cop passes on free bear claws?” Stiles asked incredulously. Mitch didn’t answer because the kid had a point. 

Chris Argent had come to him a few weeks ago with some intel that suggested there was a hunter on the Sheriff’s payroll. Not one of Chris’s, and not one who followed the code. So Derek and Mitch came up with a plan to flush him out. If he was in Beacon Hills, it wasn’t by accident. He’d know exactly who and what Derek was. So Derek would offer himself up as bait. There Sheriff would arrest him, stick him in a holding cell, and see if anyone took a bite. 

Stiles had thought it as a stupid plan. There were too many variables, too many ways that things could go wrong, that someone could get hurt. But short of interrogating every member of his staff, they didn’t really see any other option. 

Derek hadn’t been in holding for more than two hours before Walker made his move.

“So everything went smoothly?” Stiles asked setting his reheated dinner on the table. “All according to plan?” Mitch stopped in the middle of the stairs, unable to shake the feeling that he was walking into a trap. 

“Yeah, everything went fine,” Mitch said as he headed into the kitchen and grabbed a beer out of the fridge.  
  
“So then no one got shot?” Stiles asked, his head back in his book as Mitch winced. 

  
“Derek told you?” Mitch leaned against the kitchen counter and sighed. 

Stiles snorted. “Derek didn’t have to tell me,” he highlighted another passage. “The bullet I dug out of his side was pretty sufficient evidence.” 

“But he’s ok right? He healed?” Mitch pushed off the counter and sat down in front of the plate of food. “I had to get him out of there before anyone asked any questions.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles nodded. “He’s fine now. And I know it’s stupid and I know it’ll heal, doesn’t mean I like it when my—“ Stiles swallowed. “When my friends get shot.” 

“It’s not stupid,” Mitch assured him. Stiles flashed him a small smile. “Hey, you’ve got…” Mitch gestured to his face. There was a smudge of what looked like chocolate on the corner of Stiles’s mouth. 

_No_ , he thought looking closer, _not a smudge. A thumb print._

It looked like someone had dragged their thumb from the corner of Stiles’s mouth down to his jaw. And it wasn’t chocolate. It looked more like—Mitch swallowed as he was hit with the memory of Derek absently wiping his fingers on his pants after Mitch had booked him, leaving behind large smudges of ink. 

“I’ve got what?” Stiles started wiping randomly at his face. 

“Ink,” Mitch said, keeping his voice as even as he possibly could. “You have ink on your face.” 

“Oh,” Stiles said and his hand automatically went to the corner of his mouth and started rubbing. Mitch just managed to keep his groan internal. “Pen busted earlier. Thought I got it all.” The lie slipped out so effortlessly and it had the added advantage of being believable. Anyone who knew Stiles knew the boy couldn’t get within ten feet of a pen without sticking it in his mouth. And it hurt, that they were back there again, back to Stiles lying to him and him pretending not to know Stiles was lying. 

It would be easy, to confront Stiles. He’d just have to say, “ _Derek Hale? Really?”_ and Stiles would stutter and pretend to not know what Mitch was talking about. Maybe they’d fight about it. Stiles would try and make it like Mitch had a problem with the fact that Derek was a guy, but Mitch would call bullshit because Stiles knew he didn’t care about stuff like that. Then Stiles would ask if it was because he was a werewolf, probably say he was being speciesist, to which Mitch point out that wasn’t even a word and tell Stiles to stop being an idiot. 

Mitch would cite the _six year_ age difference and the fact that Stiles was 6 months on the wrong side of legal. 

Stiles would defend Derek, ruthlessly, because Mitch had learned that was the only way Stiles knew how to defend Derek. Stiles would probably say that he went after Derek. That Derek even turned him down at first. That Derek _kept_ turning him down. But Stiles eventually wore him down. Because if anyone knew how to wear someone down it was Stiles. 

Stiles would go on to assure him that despite his best efforts, Derek was insisting they take things slow. Because Stiles was too young, because his father was the Sheriff, because Derek was terrified of being like Kate. 

And Mitch…Mitch would believe him. Because he _knew_ Derek now. He wasn’t the same angry, broken, self destructive man that had sat across from Mitch in the interrogation room two years ago. He’d changed, he’d grown. He’d stepped up and taken responsibility for his life and for the lives of the kids in his pack. He gave them a home and a purpose and a family. He would do anything to make sure they were safe, to make sure they were happy. To make sure Stiles was happy. 

And if Derek made Stiles happy. Mitch could deal with that. 

He trusted his son, he really did. There was a time a few years ago when he wouldn’t have been able to say that. And it had taken them a long time to get to this point, but they were in a good place now. And if Stiles wasn’t ready to tell Mitch about Derek, then Mitch could wait until he was. 

“Dad?” Stiles called.

Mitch brought his attention back to Stiles, his eyes drifting to thumbprint still pressed into the side of Stiles’s lips. “Rubbing alcohol.” Mitch said picking up his fork. 

“What?” Stiles frowned confused for a second. 

“For the ink,” Mitch said casually.

“Oh, right,” Stiles ducked his head and Mitch saw the tips of his ears turn bright red. 

Mitch smiled. Yeah he could wait until Stiles was ready. But it didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little fun until then.

**Author's Note:**

> So I'm on [Tumblr](http://www.bella8876.tumblr.com/)


End file.
